


Food Poisoning

by 2dsickfics



Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe Fics [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Nausea, Sick Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsickfics/pseuds/2dsickfics
Summary: Peter Parker/Spiderman and Tony Stark/Iron Man - Food Poisoning fic from my tumblr.





	Food Poisoning

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw a request on the amazing Builder′s tumblr (they said they didn’t do food related stuff so I don’t want to upset them) about Irondad and Spiderson with food poisoning so I kind of adopted it and this is what I’m doing now instead of any other responsibilities I have…

It had been an, over all, pretty good day for Peter. He’d seen a great cat video that morning (from Ned, of course), been picked up by Mr Stark and taken to the airport to see May off for her trip to help out with the results of a recent attack and getting paid a bit extra, and was now heading to lunch with the billionaire. They couldn’t decide on a place, so instead settled on going to the first place that caught their eye. This had been a small restaurant with a foreign name and a welcoming air to it.

“So, what are we doing for the week, Mr Stark?” Was the conversation starter of choice and spiralled from web fluid formulas to their suits, jokes and what movies they would watch.

They ordered their food, surprising the waitress with how much Peter ordered, and ate in silence for a moment before Tony started the list of rules.

“We should probably set a bed time, or at least a curfew for the lab - we don’t want Aunt Hottie thinking I’m  _irresponsible_.” He started, seeming to be joking but also very serious. Peter didn’t know how, but it worked. “And definitely not too much sugar or caffiene. You already have  _way_ too much energy. And  _no,_ you can  _not_ have alchohol, no matter how ironic it is that I’m the one saying this.” This got a small chuckle out of the kid, and the conversation went back to lighthearted anecdotes and playful insults.

About 90% done with his meal, Peter started to feel uncomfortably full and kind of bloated. He didn’t think anything of it, though, and finished his massive lunch. Tony followed suit shortly after and they headed back to the car for the hour-long trip to the tower.

* * *

“Hey, Mr Stark?” Peter spoke up 40 minutes into the drive, “Do you have any water?” There was a mild queasiness edging it’s way into his stomach, probably from the long ride.

“Yeah, kid. There’s a bottle in the glove box.” Peter checked and, sure enough, an unopened water bottle lay at the bottom, “Always good to have some on hand - especially with my, uh, drinking… habits.” Tony smiled.

The 15 year old giggled and opened the water to sip it, but the car jerked sideways on the empty road and he spilt it over his shirt before he had the chance to do so.

“Mr Stark!” 

The older man laughed, “And my driving.”

Peter started laughing and brought the water to his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to swallow. The water had that taste that only plastic bottles supplied and it sat heavily in his mouth for a moment before he managed to choke it down. Once it hit his stomach, the queasiness became more intense and threatened to become full blown nausea. He simply put the drink down and leant back in his seat.

“You alright, Underoos?” Tony’s voice had lost the joking tone, replaced with squashed concern.

“Just a bit car-sick, I guess…” the boy’s answer seemed to make enough sense to Tony as to why the car was silent, so he nodded and turned his attention back to driving.

“Say something if it gets worse. I like the current interior decorating. And scent.” He joked.

“Ugh, Mr Stark. That’s gross.” whined Peter.

“Not as gross as the new interior decorating if you don’t look at the horizon.” And the conversation was finished.

* * *

After being at the tower for a half hour, Peter should have felt completely fine. However, Peter didn’t feel fine at all.

His stomach had decided that it didn’t like having anything in it, trying to forcefully eject the, admittedly bigger-than-usual, lunch. It had sent him running to the bathroom a few minutes earlier, after he’d changed and sat down to work on some formula ideas. So far, though, he’d just sat there miserably, so he got up and went to find Tony instead.

When he did, the older of the two immediately saw a change in the boy from lunch to the present. It wasn’t that hard; his face had gone about 10 shades paler, sweat was pooling on his forehead and, judging by is squint, was sporting a lovely headache.

“Hey, do you have some tums or something?” It was asked so pathetically that Tony might have wanted to scoop the boy into his arms and remove all sources of potential harm if he felt paternal, which was ridiculous, because Tony wasn’t anything near that.

“Yeah, just follow me.” His voice wasn’t caring at all, thank you very much. He just knows the feeling. “Still feeling sick, obviously. Please try not to spontaneously redesign the floor.” Peter groaned.

“I’ll make no promises, but, the carpet’s ugly anyway.” was the quip in return.

However, the threat was by no means empty as Peter’s stomach revolted again and sent him running to the toilet. Or it would have, at least, if the dizziness didn’t overtake him after a few steps.

“Mr Stark!” Peter called out shakily after his mentor, “I-” he didn’t finish his sentence in fear of actually ruining the carpet.

“Ok kid, let’s go.” Mr Stark shuffled him along towards the bathroom and over the toilet before sitting behind him and rubbing his back. Peter sat there for a while, steadying his breathing and getting impossibly pale - even  _green_ \- before finally gagging and bringing up the water from earlier and some of the lunch. He retched dryly for a moment before leaning away from the mess and flushing it.

“Kid, you should get some rest.” Peter didn’t argue for even a second before retiring to his room.

* * *

Tony hadn’t thought it would be possible for a superkid with an astonishing immune system could get what appeared to be a stomach flu, but here he was rubbing said superkid’s back for the second time that day and ordering a bot to clean Peter’s floor. The kid really tried to make it to the ensuite, but he stumbled near the door and fell, triggering the inevitable. it had only been 2 hours since they got back and Underoos was already at the point of not making it to the bathroom. This boy would kill him one day, with how fast he can escalate a situation.

“Alright. You done?” he asked.

“For now, I think?” Peter hesitated before nodding and pushing away from the porcelain. “I’m sorry for the floor, I tried-”

“It’s fine, Pete.” it wasn’t the words that reassured him so much as the soft tone.

“How’s about we get you in bed and on the road to recovery with some pepto or whatever you can take?” Peter liked the sound of that, but the smell of the cleaning chemicals were making his head hurt and his stomach flop dangerously, so he proposed the couch as a better option, the bathroom nearby and wooden floors so they wouldn’t be ruined. He left that last part out.

Tony approved and they set him up on the couch with the entire  _Star Wars_  franchise playing on the huge T.V. in order for Peter to ‘nerd’ about, as Tony put it.

* * *

Peter was still feeling like shit (although he wasn’t allowed to say so in such terms) and was feeling his stomach gearing up for another round when Tony walked in. Pete assumed he was coming to check on him, but didn’t look back as he stumbled into the bathroom. He expected Tony to follow him, but he was completely shaken out of sorts when his mentor leant over the sink instead of sitting behind him to rub his back like the last few times. He was pulled back to reality by a retch that forced him over the toilet, not at all disguising the heave that came from Tony’s own throat in response.

“Mr Sta-” he cut off with a cough, “y’sick too?”

“I think so, bud. Might explain why you’re sick, too.” Peter hadn’t thought it was weird that he was sick until now, since it was the first time since the bite, “Food poisoning. We had the same thing for lunch.” he elaborated.

“Oh.”That explained how shitty Peter was feeling perfectly. He immediately knew it was going to be a rough night, since he’d eaten at least 3 serves of the stuff. Thinking about food set Peter off again, the sound and smell triggering Tony’s stomach in turn after that. Needless to say, they were in the bathroom for a while.

* * *

After they self-diagnosed food poisoning, they both just seemed to become more miserable. They had both set up camp on the couch with a bucket on either side of the miserable Parker-Stark lump in the middle of the couch. They had both found that sitting up was far better than lying down.

“Mr Stark, I’m going t-” He hicupped before clamping his mouth shut and breathed deeply, his head lolling forwards, “Bucket-” he choked as Tony lifted the receptacle to his face. Peter dug his hands out of his blanket and held the plastic as he heaved up more of today’s mistake of a lunch. Tony rubbed his back and looked away, trying to delay the chain reaction. It only worked for about 10 seconds before he was heaving up his own lunch into the other bin.

“Sorry, Pete.” Tony choked out between heaves, seeing that the boy had been set off again by him.

“’S ok, not- not your fault.” was mumbled between bouts of vomiting and Tony’s stomach saw that as an ok to rebel again and send them back into a session of infinite vomiting, until Tony ran himself empty and Peter was left still miserably vomiting his innards up on his own.

“You’ll be ok, Peter.” Tony smiled sympathetically as he rubbed his back. 

Peter just threw up some more.


End file.
